Robomop

I watched I, Robot last night for about the third time. I've said it before, but I will say it again. I am intrigued by Sonny. I love the expression in his eyes, the vulnerability in his voice, and the way he makes us sympathise with him.
I also liked Teddy, the bear-bot in A.I.. But...they were not real...

Sony has discontinued its trainable robo-dog AIBO as well as the mini humanoid Qrio (cost: approx. $2500), and the Sega i-Dog (£12.99) is lame. Then there is the somewhat intelligent RoboSapiens (£200ish) by Wowee. But Asimo is pretty cool. You may have seen him in the last Honda ad. He's so adorable and seems so eager to please, you just want to bless his little rubber socks. And he looks like a wee little spaceman!

As long as they don't humanise them too much, I think robot helpers will be fine.

Check out the videos of what the lil' fellow can do, on the Honda Asimo website. He - I mean, it - can climb stairs, run fast and slow, run in a curve, sidestep, kick a ball, dance, recognise faces and simple gestures, walk backwards, respond to pressure by adjusting its stance, wait for someone to cross its path before continuing, hold a human hand and walk, carry a tray, push a cart...and it does have to learn these things on its own by making calculations and adapting.

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That wasn't what I really meant to blog about. Last week I had a joyful reunion with the writings of Michael Crichton. I read Timeline. It's sort of about quantum physics and time travel to the 14th century, only the developers in the book don't call it that because they say time travel, per se, is not possible. Instead, they talk about multiverses. More than one universe - I suppose what we know as parallel universes. So here is the question I scribbled on a scrap of paper in the Tube one morning:

If it is not time travel but MULTIVERSES, then how can the Professor travel to the 14th century AND leave a note that will be excavated in the 20th century to be found by his OWN team and not some other team in another multiverse - or not be found at all, if in one universe the site has not been discovered or is inactive?

Because the rep from the company that developed the quantum travel described it thus:

"...the universe we see...was just one of an infinite number of universes, existing side by side.
Each of these universes was constantly splitting, so there was a universe where Hitler lost the war, and another where he won; a universe where Kennedy died, and another where he lived."

Most of us have had that sort of conversation before - what if he did, what if he didn't - but it's the crossover here that confuses me. The Professor visiting in 1357 loses his glasses in the scriptorium and his colleague Kate in 1999 excavates them the day after he travelled there. The manuscript specialist finds a parchment note in his handwriting asking them for help, including the date and the solution to a code.

Fine, if it were mere time travel...but how can he be in another universe?

Another thing that was mentioned but not resolved was the fact that the time travellers are split at the home end, and they disappear, but it is not they but their counterparts from another universe that are reassembled at the destination - because in our universe they figured out how to transport them but not how to reassemble them, so our scientists are relying on those from another universe that have reassembly capability...body swap? So, where do our travellers go meantime, into the ether? And how come their counterparts know the same things as they do?

And if they compress not a person but the information equivalent of a person, as in a fax, then how does that person go and fight battles and draw blood on the other side?

This is making the idea of the Matrix sound simple. So, enough quantum mechanics for now because even the physicist Richard Feynman said in 1967: "Nobody understands quantum theory."


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Check out my new flipped hairstyle:

















When I first cut it short 7 years ago, it was drastic. I never thought I could keep it at this moderate length and that it would still be (somewhat) controllable. But I did miss my curls and really needed to feel softer and more feminine, and wanted to see how far I could push it. I've been growing it since last autumn with only a couple of reshape trims since then.

At the salon on Friday night, the stylist only chipped the weight off the back so she could work it. She styled it carefully with her fingers - no tools - and a hairdryer, working out the top, straightening the strands, pulling out the sides (which is where she utilised the natural fannish tendency of the left side, of which the right was easy to imitate). Still, that frontal wave refuses to go. It now insists on returning to a distinct curl. Ah well. C'est ma vie.

*Fanfare*

Pass out the chocolate cigars - I am a godmother! (Or in our family, a "nen". It's a Guyanese thing.)

My Canadian cousin Alyssa brought daughter Jada into the world today, weighing nearly 6 pounds, reportedly with long limbs like her Mommy. And it was by C-section because Baby hadn't turned and they delivered her a couple of weeks early so that Lyss wouldn't go into breech labour.

It was Alyssa whose boyfriend Roger (her best ever and the one she was going to marry) passed away tragically and unexpectedly last September aged only 25 of a brain aneurysm, and I wrote a very distraught post about it. His family is standing by 100% and treats Lyss just like a daughter in law. This is going to be one very loved baby - all the families involved are over the moon.

Lyss was one of those mums-to-be who chose not to find out the gender of the baby, having the inhuman ability to wait 9 months to find out. Most of us wanted it to be a girl, even Lyss's brothers Mike and Paul. At least now I am totally prepared, thanks to my own godmother Elizabeth, who is also my cousin.

I am going to give her one or two Beatrix Potter books every year, like my Nen did. She contributed greatly to my early library and love of books and reading, as well as to my love of handmade boxes (though that is not exactly something I plan to pass on!)

Here's to years of Winnie the Pooh, Beatrix Potter, Dr Seuss...suppose I should have brushed up on the new stuff too. Any suggestions?

Needless to say, I will be taking my place at the Christening.

Can't wait to see pics!

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Moody Blues

Grrrrrr.

This morning I sat on the Tube beside a man whose breath whistled through his nose. He wasn't old, and he was married. The poor wife. I felt like saying, "Stop whistling."

Then on the Tube on the way home I overheard two girls talking. It was quite enlightening. One of them talked about how her mind wanders when she interviews people...

Encouraging.

Since yesterday I have probably twisted my right ankle about 6 times - in both directions. The real sprain came tonight as I was descending some steps, pointing my toes straight forward, and my ankle went again, bigtime.

Anyway. It's been hurting more and more as the evening wears on. At least I could walk tiptoe earlier, but now I can only hop...

*cries*

Do I have to go to the doctor? I don't think I should go to work tomorrow...

Ow ow ow...hurts


Reminder to self: don't blog during PMS.

I've got something that will cheer things up. Yep, it's not all Mozart and Beethoven around here. Crank up the volume and have a listen to Muse. I love what they do with sound, it's often spine-tingling.

Take a Bow
(what got me into them in the first place)

or

Sing for Absolution
(heart wrenching!)

You can also see the video on YouTube, if you like.

Foodie yum yum

MMMMMMmmmmmm the fish n chips yesterday in Richmond was poifect!

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This morning I have been watching New York City (Les Halles) chef Anthony Bourdain. He is right out of a page from the beatnik biker 1960s. Tall, tanned, lanky, weathered, curly grey hair, an earring, black leather jacket, and he smokes.

He's on this gastronomic world tour. This weekend I saw him in St Petersburg, Russia, eating smoked dried fish, coulibiac, caviar, lots of vodka with radishes, washed down with cucumber juice...

Then Oaxaca, MEXICO. I wanted to EAT ALL THE FOOD (except for the toasted crickets, ant eggs and fried worms). All sorts of mole' sauces, fresh pico de gallo, chorizo, soups, ices, enchiladas...OK, all these things in this list don't look outsdanding, but with Mexican food, it's the preparation and the resulting flavour explosion that matters. When I tell you what they put in the mole sauce: charred avocado leaf, roasted chipotle peppers, chocolate, salt, other spices...cooked up with turkey or goat...to see these things being prepared in the outdoor kitchens, everything with fresh hot tortillas...I just can't convey it here.

Last weekend I saw him in Thailand and Vietnam. I've already raved about the Hairy Bikers cooking in SE Asia, so I won't repeat myself here. Yes, of course, they all ran into unwelcome surprises, such as the Bikers eating dog when they thought it was duck, and Bourdain feeling a bit off after eating the busiest birds' nest soup you ever saw (not as basic as the Chinese one)


And right now he is in a red 1968 Mustang convertible, leather jacket, sunshades, cigarette - saying that is the car he wants to die in, let it be his funeral pyre...

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Speaking of food, I have a few recipes that it would be fun to share with you. First up, if I can find the crinkled piece of paper I wrote it on, I will give you a Butter Tart recipe from Canada.

BUTTER TARTS - very addictive.



For 12 Tarts:

1/2 cup seedless raisins
1/4 cup unsalted butter
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup golden corn syrup (or in UK, golden syrup)
1 egg, slightly beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla

Heat oven to 450 degrees F (~ 230 degrees C). Pour boiling water on raisins to cover completely. Let stand about 5 minutes. Drain but do not dry. Mix raisins (still warm) with butter, sugar, salt and syrup. Stir to dissolve sugar and melt butter. Add slightly beaten egg and vanilla. Fill tarts. (Add a pecan on top of each tart?)

Bake in very hot oven for 15-20 minutes - filling should still be bubbling, but lightly browned on top. Don't overbake or filling will be too thick.

Remove tarts from oven. Loosen edges of pastry with the point of a knife. Let tarts remain in pans for about 10 minutes to give them a chance to set, then remove them from pans to cool completely on cake rack.

(Olivia adds: Enjoy eating them, then put them away so you don't eat them all in one go! Seriously, my aunt baked them for my cousin's baby shower, and I just kept coming back for "another one...and another one....oh, and one more....ok, this is the last one...")




TEXT

Ageism etc

So, what has Liv been doing this week?

First I have to get an old Tag out of the way, from Moody Minstrel:

What does your desktop look like?



Bernini's cast bronze baldacchino in St Peter's Basilica. Personal holiday pics are my favourite wallpaper.
As you can see, I also have Google sidebar.

I tag all of you who blog!

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I have been:
Temping at a law firm aaallll the way out in Putney. It takes an hour at the least, assuming there are no delays on the Tube and there is enough room to get on to the first train that pulls in. It is only 3 stops away from Wimbledon. The work is easy, thankfully, so the pay is much lower than I got in the City. Jeans are de rigeur, and they seem to waltz in whenever they like - unlike the City, where I was the last to arrive at 9.30, here I was just right. The guy who sits next to me came in at nearly 10 and no one batted an eyelid...

There is a nice little cafe in Wandsworth Park that I've been going to across from the office. Today I bumped into two of the girls from the next floor down and sat with them for lunch. At one point they were talking about how it was when they first started there, and how much younger the new employees are - you know how it is, when older people talk about "the youngsters"...

I was dismayed and threw out the challenge, "How old do you think I am?
"Twenty three," spoken with confidence.
I shook my head.
She gave a look of surprise. "Twenty five."
I shook my head again.
Eyes widened and she grudgingly ventured, "Twenty seven?"
A third shake of the head.
Throwing all caution to the wind, she exclaimed, "Thirty?!?!?"
Yep, in a few weeks I will be...
Same age as they are!

***

I mean, really, if a guy my age thinks I'm just out of college, he is not going to want to go out with me, is he? I am tired of taking it as a compliment...when I'm 50, fine, but here I am trying to make my way in the world. I have often said I am about 10 years behind my peers career- and relationship-wise. So watch out, in a few years, I might finally get my dream job and meet the man of my dreams, and have kids after 40. *sigh*

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A few people here and on my other blog have asked if I saw any celebs at Home House on Sunday - well, if I had, I would definitely have aired it!

I've seen a couple of familiar faces right here in St John's Wood. There is a guy who looks a bit like Bill Nighy, but isn't - he was ahead of me in the queue at the bank round the corner, opening a new account.
Then tonight as I left my local Tesco, Don Warrington went in, but I've seen him before.

Of course, everyone knows that Sir Paul McCartney lives here - well, he can't stray far from Abbey Road studios, can he? Joining him are Noel and Liam Gallagher. I hear Kate Moss has been spotted, and if you were to go to the local kosher cafe round the corner, you are likely to see George Michael, Minnie Driver, Roman Abramovich, or Sir Paul.

They are all next door to their fellow slebs, the Primrose Hill set, a short walk away through Regent's Park: Jude Law, Jamie Oliver, Sienna Miller (who has now moved to this side), Jonny Lee Miller, Ewan McGregor...

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Off to bed for me now
*yawn*




TEXT

Lingering Luncheon

Everything seems to be picking up, now that the days are growing longer and spring is round the corner.

I went to Sunday luncheon at Home House with a pleasant group of people. Yes, Home House, where the monied let down their hair and celebs rub elbows with royalty. (What you wouldn't guess is that it is only a few years old.)



I was invited by a pleasant young lady I met a few months ago at a political Party, um, party, and of a ruling family. It turns out she is a member of my old place, the Arts Club! So I know more than enough people now to be a guest there.

The guests were all from various mideastern countries (Ms R and Mr F from Kuwait, twins from the Emirates, a pair of French-Lebanese cousins) and one Indian, and all educated in Europe, the UK or the US, and mostly quite beautiful. So many nice teeth. All of us have been mistaken for something else. The twins look Greek. Ms R has been mistaken for Indian. I've been Indian, Lebanese, Italian, Egyptian, Greek...Well, I do have two, maybe three, of those.

The champagne flowed first in the bar, after which we moved upstairs to the dining room. Ms R had assigned our seating, which I liked because we alternated boy and girl. For starters, I chose a delicate crab spring roll on a fresh mango salsa. Following this I enjoyed grilled seabass on celeriac. Ms R had recommended the roast beef, but as I had some yesterday and it gave me grief, I passed. She did, however, give me her Yorkshire pudding because I like it and she doesn't. There is always room for dessert, so I had pear and almond tarte with berry coulis and cream, and a very delightfully mild and aromatic Earl Grey tea.

The big serious topic was racism in East versus West. The fact that one guy was a lawyer, and there were 8 people to contribute their thoughts, meant that it turned into a long discussion. We joked that next time we meet up, we will discuss ID cards.

Although everyone had impeccable table manners, for some reason they referred to me on a few protocol questions. I only dug my hole deeper by ordering Earl Grey, and then Mr F said that was just what is supposed to be drunk in the afternoon, isn't it? (I hadn't thought of it at all.)

I have also been encouraged to brush up on my Greek and Icelandic for next time. Ha.Ha.Ha...

Four and a half hours at lunch in good company. That is the best kind of Sunday.

Let's get this party started [edited]

Diva's party on Saturday was awesome. Click for Photostory. after pre-drinks and lots of food at the house, we moved on to Sahara bar. There we did lots of fun "action shots", laughed our knees off, and Amy snogged her new beau while Diva passed out for 5 minutes because her drink was actually spiked. It caused quite a ruckus over at the bar when they were informed this week.

Speaking of shots, I had one in the middle with everyone else; I couldn't choose what, so I told Amy to surprise me. I had a chili lemongrass martini, and...something else. Possibly an Oriental Garden martini...We all only had about 2 or 3 drinks each and went home after 10pm to have cake and tea, after which Diva was back to normal. ;)

**********


Now on to more drinkies. I went to Detroit bar in Covent Garden with my friend Neil to scout it out for my birthday. They have a wonderful array of cocktails, in fact they were serving cocktails in London before they were cool.

Before 7pm we had 2 for £7. I had a carribean (coconut rum, cinnamon liqueur, banana syrup, cream) and Neil had a sing song (vodka, mango juice, lemon juice, sugar syrup). They do really yummy little spring rolls, and the olives are nice too. Second round, he had a paquita (tequila, passion fruit, lime juice, elderflower cordial, sugar syrup) and I had a rose petal martini (gin, rose vodka, lychee juice, topped with a red petal). It was deeeeeeelish. It seems I usually get most excited by floral drinks. And we then had some scampi with lemon mayo.



As to the setting itself, it's very underground, as though in a space age cave with large alcoves and intimate nooks. The lighting was low and the music was chilled, and not once did we have to raise our voices to be heard. I know there was more to be found. Apparently there is a restaurant there as well, somewhere in the labyrinth...!

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Alright my lovelies. My head is telling me that I did indeed drink gin (although G&T doesn't do this!), so I am off to bed with a glass of water. Not all at the same time, of course.

(P.S. That is a photo of my rose martini. I held the candle to the stem to light the rim. Cool eh?)

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[EDIT]:

For those of you who can't see Flickr pics, I hope Webshots works.

Chocolate Connoisseurs

Yes, finally a post about chocolate. You all know I love dark chocolate, but the odd thing is I can go for months without touching any. In one month, I must have eaten chocolate only 3 or 4 times. A cherry liqueur or two a couple of times, a Grand Marnier After Eight stick...

Selfridges no longer stocks Pierre Marcolini, which really is one of the best in Europe. Marcolini is Belgian and holds the official title of chocolatier with boutiques in Brussels, Paris, and Tokyo, but is based in London. Possibly some of you remember me going on about it last year. Actually, I can date the fall-off in chocolate consumption from then. If I ever get around to visiting the boutique on Kensington Church Street...

There is Rococo on Marylebone High Street, but you can find various selections of their chocolates at a few London stores now, such as Liberty and Waitrose. Valrhona is another good brand. I prefer it to Green & Black's, but it's not as widespread. I have found Valrhona at Fortnum & Mason, Selfridges, Waitrose, and even spotted some at our local Tesco today. Carte d'Or is also supposed to be good, but I haven't tried it yet even though I can find it at Waitrose too. I haven't looked at the chocolates at Harvey Nichols or Harrods 101 because I get carried away with other foods there!


Green & Black's Maya Gold versus Dove Organic Citrus Spice

G&B

1) 55% cocoa solids
2) bittersweet chocolate
3) self distributed brand from London
4) made in Italy
5) wrapped in gold foil


Dove

1) 61% cacao
2) semisweet chocolate
3) distributed by Masterfoods USA, a division of Mars, Inc
4) made in Italy
5) wrapped in gold foil

Dove smells like a spice market, giving an idea of cinammon, some clove, maybe even nutmeg. On the tongue it is silky smooth, round-edged, fast-melting, slightly bitter with no tartness, and has a delayed zingy bitterness with an exciting chili-like tang.


G&B gives an immediate pleasant orange bouquet, but then feels more gooey, is more overwhelmingly bitter, has a rough texture, and leaves a bitter aftertaste and heavy coating on the tongue.

If only we could get Dove in the UK...

Special Stuff

This weekend I went off to Diva and Nags to celebrate her birthday with Amy and Sunshine (and the Man). Pandy couldn't be there, and we missed her, but we will see her again soon.

As usual, we laughed more than anyone in a 5-mile radius. Laughter IS the best medicine :) It is impossible to hang out with that lot and keep a straight face. I love 'em to bits.

I didn't take any pictures because I didn't take my camera, and I didn't take my camera because I knew Diva would want to exercise her brand new camera, but once she puts up one of her outstanding photo shows, I will link to it.

**********

And then this morning I woke up to this:

A box of exciting goodies from Nikki all the way on the other side of the world!

It was a bright spot in my rainy day. I got:

Some dainty green earrings which make me feel thirsty because they look like grapes. A maze puzzle on a valentine heart. A smooth bar of the very excellent Dove orange spice dark chocolate. A pouch of 3 delicious Burt's Bees tinted/shimmering lip balms. Mmmmm, mintyyyyyy.

Oh, and a card entitled: Red Rover, Red Rover, send cute, financially stable, emotionally mature men right over!

(Ain't that the truth.)

Snowbound

Yesterday, all of England was blanketed in snow. Up to 10cm in some places. Not many children went to school - so they threw snowballs and went sledding. Today there was more snow oop north, but the south has mostly melted.

The transport system was paralysed: crews worked overnight to clear the snow off the rails because tube trains won't run if they cannot make contact with the electricity, but still many tubes struggled to pull out.

London lost £100million yesterday in business owing to the snow and people not being able to get in to work.

They stayed home and spent the day sending photos in to the news to be shown during the weather bulletins. There were photos of snowmen, snow robots, snow dogs, snow bears. Who knew that people who rarely see the stuff could get so creative with it?

It wasn't that cold yesterday, so even though the snow stayed in most areas, I could have gone out without being so muffled up. The ground became wet overnight, and today it's so much colder. My toes aren't warm at all.

We talk about global warming and how we will all melt, but I am watching a program about the Supervolcano, in this instance at Yellowstone. I have blogged about this before, right here.
Planet earth is due a major eruption. If it happens, the world will plunge into a mini Ice Age.

You can't win either way.

Anyway, I'm off out of town this weekend for Diva's b-day party and not looking forward to wearing party clothes in this weather...It's more acceptable to go to a dinner in Canada wearing a polar neck, than to go to a club in the UK.

P.S. If anyone can improve on that grammatically lame last sentence, please do.

P.S.2 Sorry to say, I have yet another headache today.

Mind the Gap

My Dad called me from Calgary last night, which absolutely made my day, retroactively of course. It was lovely to hear his comforting voice.


In Orangeville last month

**********

Today, before dinner, I was looking through some job listings at one of those all-purpose community sites. Then I found myself looking at the personals. Quite a few looked interesting and I was tempted to answer. But then I had dinner, and when I came back, they all looked awful.

I was supposed to go out with someone this week, but haven't heard from him.

**********

Continuing the moodiness, I have been very untalkative for the past couple of weeks.
I think my landlord and landlady (henceforth Mr and Mrs L, as I am fed up of typing their titles) have picked up on that, for they haven't asked me too many questions about anything.

Although, a few minutes ago Mrs L did need help with her TV/AV buttons. She came creeping up the stairs to my room saying my name in a piteous voice. So I went out to the landing, and she poutily said she couldn't get the TV to work. It's funny, do you know what I instinctively did, to someone more than double my age? I bent down a bit, patted my legs and said sweetly, "Come on, then." As you do when you take a child by the hand to go get cookies and milk...

...Saperlipopette!

**********

In slightly better news, my consultants are already putting my new CV through for a few things, and asking me to cross my fingers, so you had better join in.

And to round off the better-news section, my dear friend Jia Li in Newfoundland has made me a cool London Underground logo:

Hot Cross Bun

First off, what a day. I have another headache. Last night I dropped off my wireless connection and couldn't get back on it until just now, so I was piggybacking on my landlord's (weak signal) with a combination of attaching my laptop to the ethernet cable. And I couldn't send emails from my server account because it didn't recognise the new IP address.

And my Performancing Firefox won't work since I switched to the new Blogger because I can't figure out how to change my name and password.

Then I tried calling the specialists in some departments at a certain auction house to ask why, exactly, I can't get an interview despite having an MPhil in art history. I was referred to a few but they were all out of the office.

Then I tried to call Internal Revenue but their lines are all busy.

Maybe I could go to the Post Office. I have some things to do there...
And I pulled out my training pack so I can practise my voice overs again. I wish I hadn't done my demos last year. I sound a lot happier now.

**********

This is what I really wanted to blog about today:

Seen on Cute Overload:



Or here: Brave Bunny

There were over 200 comments - most people on the side of "Go bunny go!"
Others, whom one commenter said shouldn't be exposed to the real world, decried it as cruelty and not cute at all.
In turn, people hailed it as a great thing to see the tables turned for once.

One commenter came up with this priceless dialogue:

Bunny: Oh, what's this?
Snake: RAH, I bite you!
Bunny: No! *hops away* Comes back and bites tail
Snake: Ha, I really showed that-- OW! Hey!
Bunny: Get out of here! I bite YOU!
Snake: Augh, leave me alone! *climbs up tree*


And so I say, "Go bunny go!"

Art following life in the classic killer rabbit scene from Monty Python:



Or here: Killer Rabbit

"You tit! I soiled my armour I was so scared!"
"Manky Scots git! What's he do, nibble yer bum???"

Circles n Curls

Headache day.

I'm watching CSI. It's amazing how little DNA they need these days for an ID.

I used to want to work in a crime lab. I even took a criminal justice class to start a minor in it and searched for post-grad programs, but then CSI swept onto the scene, and I could just see the wave of wannabe forensic scientists flooding the market. And then my psych degree came to completion so I didn't need to stay enrolled, and I eventually came back to London to start the art history studies.

Odd, that I started in biology AND worked in a lab - should have stayed in it, since halfway through my psych degree I knew it wasn't for me. But unlike someone I knew who changed major 9 times, I wanted to save time and stick with it. By the way, that guy who switched nine times was my admissions counselor when I started uni, and is now the associate director of admissions.

My dad kept suggesting I be a profiler. This was after my degree when I was looking at jobs in DC. One of my friends and I were going to join the CIA and he used to call me Q. Another friend and I actually took the State Department security services test. It lasted all afternoon - I got to the last stage and was disqualified - and found her waiting for me in the lobby coz she hadn't got past the first test! Go me!

After working at the Houston school district psych services department, I started looking at jobs in NYC, discovered I wanted to own all the art history books in publishing, and then it slapped me in the face.

Since high school I had owned The Art Book, spending hours poring over it on the floor until my legs went numb from sitting on them, lying on my elbows until they got carpet burn, then sitting up again. Even at university, I remember envying my friends who took art history as one of their art electives. (I didn't have to, as I had transferred in my Humanities course from college.)

Art History. Why hadn't I thought of it before?

Why?

Probably because I considered myself to be a scientist all the way through. But then a few years in biology and the right side of my brain started feeling neglected (talk about thinking like a psychologist). Psych was a nice balance between right and left hemispheres, but I hated, I mean really hated, statistics. Give me chemistry any day...

Finally in art history I found my balance. It is not all right brained. Paired with aesthetics and visual immersion is a heck of a lot of analysis and methodology and technique and science (qualitative, rather than quantitative, fortunately).

I have no idea why I thought you would be interested in that. When I started this blog, I was going to say I had nothing to talk about today.

**********

Oh wow. The suspect in CSI tonight is a chimera. A twin within a twin - one person made of two, with two conflicting sets of DNA from when, in the womb, the second twin is absorbed by the first.

.
.
.

Well, that's me shutting up for today.



Guess who?

Rant-a-Meme

A quick rant on something that bothered me:

I went to the grocery store this afternoon. At the end of my checkout, because it was near the exit, was a great conglomeration of 8 or 10 trolleys. I couldn't push mine out while I waited for the woman from the next till over to pick her bags out of her trolley. Predictably, she added another set of wheels to the mix. While I was waiting for her to leave, the woman behind me nodded her hijab at me and said "Excuse me, can I get out?". Well, I had nowhere to go; we still had to wait till the first lady left the store - that's how crowded it was.

I reached for my bags and thought, "I can't leave those trolleys in such a ridiculous state." I could barely reach the exit anyway, and the hijab lady wouldn't have a chance, specially with her baby stroller. So I pushed about 3 trolleys into each other to open a walkway, and as I was doing so, Mrs Hijab waggles at me again, "Excuse me, my baby is sleeping!"
I replied, "But I am trying to make some space here."
She said, "I see that."
And the cashier and the people in the queue looked over at me and shrugged their shoulders.
I would have like to see her try to get out with bags and a stroller if I hadn't done that.

Sometimes I hate being thoughtful. It would have been so EASY for me to pick up my bags and leave my trolley right where it stood. Of course, if I try that next time, some old lady is liable to look at me and shake her head and proclaim something about the youth of today. You cannot win...

**********

OK, Blue tagged me with this a week ago and Leilouta did today.

Five Things About Me:

1) I am shy around other people's children, but not their dogs.
2) The only fruit I crave is apples, even if I enjoy others
3) When I was 3, I stole a toy from Nursery School. It was a small orange cube with no known function.
4) I used to hate my first name! I wanted my middle name first.
5) Sometimes I like to put condensed milk on my buttered toast, mmmm.

**********

I also decided to do the Book Meme:

1. Find the nearest book.
2. Name the book & the author.
3. Turn to page 123.
4. Go to the fifth sentence on the page. Copy out the next three sentences and post to your blog.
5. Tag three more folks.

So it is the book I am reading at the moment:
Theatre of the Mind: Raising the Curtain on Consciousness by Jay Ingram
p. 123, sentences 6, 7 and 8 read:

Some even argue that this experiment doesn't explore free will at all, because the participants know they have to make several of these "spontaneous" movements over the course of the experiment and that the movement will be exactly the same (or essentially so) each time. In fact, when the experiment was first described to participants, they were conscious of the instructions and the procedure - somewhere in their minds they "knew" what they were doing. Yet to take the results at face value you'd have to believe that this background awareness was suspended each and every time they flicked their wrist.

No favouritism here - I tag YOU!


In the tradition of ending each post with a photo, I have discovered The Woodlands College Park High School, home of the Cavaliers. Oooh! I am so envious! I went to a big square brown school built in the 70s. McCullough was the first high school in the Woodlands, back when it was young. Home of the Highlanders.

Now look at this! A high school!

Coward

I watched The Ring last night. Most of the crucial scenes were viewed through the gap between my fingers. Thankfully, because of this, I didn't scream. Sometimes I get taken by surprise, though.

It was scary, but not as viscerally frightening as Ringu which I saw on TV last year. Shoot, that one scared the toenails off me. (This time, I knew when to cover my eyes, see.) Plus the original was shot in constant semi-darkness.

When it was over, the back of my neck felt uncomfortable and I was paralysed until I came across a link to this refreshing recut of The Ring as a family drama.

I also came across some hilarious answers on IMDB to the question, "If you knew she was going to come after you, what would you do?"

There were the predictable ones like: "I'd scream and run / I'd hit her with a chair / I'd shoot her". And anyway, she's dead and she can control electrical devices, so there's no stopping her, but still some great ones were:

• I'd put my TV on top of the wardrobe so she would fall out and break a leg

• When she was halfway out of the TV I'd turn it off so she would be stuck and I'd watch her squirm

• Before she crawls out I'd change the channel to Jerry Springer or some soap so she would be forever trapped in awful TV land. [I vote we send her to Big Brother...]

• I'd reason with her
  
  

However, assurances that "it is just a movie and they are just actors" soon pass, and when it came time to go to bed, I couldn't turn off my lights. Yes, I know that nothing will ever crawl through my TV screen...but I left it on the digital BBC classical station and turned on the blue light that illuminates the dome on my humidifier.

Even after watching Ringu I turned off my lights, so what happened???

And what is the big deal about the dark? Some of the deaths happened in broad daylight.

**********

In much lighter topics, I've restarted the application I mentioned a few days ago. I was working on it on my old laptop, which is so mangled it takes 5 minutes to notice you've actually hit a button. Slow going. Today I spent the entire afternoon running System Mechanic on it in an attempt to speed it up a bit, but it's a lost case I would say. Surprised it didn't cut itself off or give me the Blue Screen of Death today.

I haven't been able to work on it on my new laptop because it came preloaded with MS Works, which, in short, is crap. Plus the world and its uncle send attachments as .doc or .ppt or .xls. So it was only a matter of time before I had to relent and buy an Office Suite. And SWEET indeed it is -- I am on the Office 2007 free trial. It is a-mazing.

It comes with Word, Excel, PowerPoint and a new program called OneNote. With a few clicks and drags you can assemble anything, all sort of notes, pics...it predicts what you want and before you know it you have pages of bullet lists, tables, boxes, sidenotes, and so on.

All the programs have an intuitive Ribbon that replaces the clumsy old toolbars. And so much more I have not yet discovered.

So anyway, I have restarted the application...well, when I get through playing with everything :)


Here is a picture to please your eyes, taken from the breakfast table one morning in Canada:




Pretty little Mourning Doves. So shy and gentle.

Oops Tea

Grr! I had nearly finished writing a blog about J-J last night when it ALL disappeared! I blame it on my Touchpad. It selects and deletes anything if my palm accidentally touches the top corners.

So keep an eye out for my second attempt sometime today or tonight, but first I have to complete an application for an interesting job. No doubt there will be an essay to write.

Also wanted to share with you the jasmine tea experience that my housemate brought me from China:

It starts as a tight bundle - I don't know how anyone can make that.

Put it in hot water for about half an hour and watch it expand, unfurl, and blossom.

Voila! A pretty result and some tasty tea.

Ciao.

P.S. It snowed in London last night. Melted now, of course.

I think this was at about 5.45am, after I heard the salt truck.

Dufferin History

On the way to the Dufferin museum.





VAST ONTARIO COUNTRY, criss-crossed by endless lonely roads.

After Christmas, no snow, warm breezes and temps over 10C (50F).







THE DUFFERIN COUNTY MUSEUM, built in 1994 but designed to resemble a barn and silo to blend with the surrounding farms and built with new materials.



My cousin Pierre brought me here, remembering he had mentioned it a couple of Christmasses back. He grew up in the area and has never been there himself. He is friends with both Wayne the curator and Darrel the director. Wayne wasn't there, but Darrel came down to meet us, and kindly gave us an insider's tour before letting us loose to wander about.



The interior was open to the ceiling beams, with a mezzanine on one side that houses changing exhibitions. Being so vast, the ground floor space contained a large pioneer log house with 4, yes 4, bedrooms. Three snug ones upstairs and the master bedroom downstairs with a parlour and the rest- Pierre and I went in 5 minutes before closing so I only glanced round.



Then there was a clapboard meeting hall for the Orangemen, a social organisation somewhat similar to the Rotary Club or more outgoing Masonic Lodge. The Orangemen are loyal to Protestant William III (hence the suppression of their parades in Northern Ireland).



And beside that stood a signal house. Living out in the sticks like the area was and still is even though only an hour from Toronto, if you wanted to catch the steam train, you would have to go to the signal house and hoist the flag so that it would stop for you. How quaint. It was quite snug inside, a shelter from the weather.



Around the edges of the space were glass cases with artefacts of local history that illustrate how southern Ontarians lived from the 19th century to the early 20th...horse show ribbons, local tailoring, dental instruments, hotel guest books and bills, undertaker's equipment, shopkeepers' signs, furniture from the prison warden's wife's quarters...you name it.



In the centre was a tape outline on the floor of a First People's Longboat for school groups to get into as it is so BIG.



The mezzanine's charming wrought iron railing came from a large church that I think was destroyed in a fire, and the equally charming iron spiral staircase was once used by female prisoners to descend to the exercise yard behind the Court House, which area is now covered by new extensions and a parking lot.





THE DUFFERIN COUNTY COURTHOUSE, built in the 1890s, I think.



Dufferin county is surprisingly new. I found that in the mid-19th century, the first white child to be born there played with the children of natives, or First People.



The exhibition on the mezzanine was called Traces of our Heritage and showcased mundane and ceremonial artefacts from the local First Peoples. We had no time to return here after Darrel's tour.



Next he took us up into the silo which houses the elevator shafts and the air-conditioning and heating equipment, so as to keep the ceilings free in the main exhibition spaces. At the top of the silo is a circular viewing room giving amazing views over the fields and meadows, and also showing Airport Road stretching like a rollercoaster to a dot on the horizon. Darrel, who is actually an urban planner, has an interest in art and so is using the walls of the viewing room as a mini art gallery to show off local talent.



Finally he took us down to the basement which contains the County Archives. The highlight of the tour, in my opinion, was when he took out his keys and showed us into the off-limits storage vault, the warehouse, and the offices!



We had an excellent time looking at all the things, stuffed to the rafters. They have to turn down new donations, even, so they don't need a large acquisition budget at all! So many houses have attics full of granny's things, you see. There were turn of the century dresses, coats, shoes, handbags, biscuit tins, old municipal fire pumps, an undertaker's cart with a wicker coffin - apparently, the deceased were buried in wicker coffins because the water table is so high that when it rained, they would not float!



Dressing tables, stained glass windows, silver tea sets, carriages of all quality, size, and class; all sorts of inventive farming equipment; an Orangemen poster that was so full of symbology it would take days to decipher; and so on. I could have spent a week browsing.



He showed us his office. All the offices are stuffed with artefacts too. We saw some ongoing conservation done by a conservator who comes in once a week.



I kind of wished I could work there. Funny how the importance of London's gilded art scene fades when you are not in the midst of it. Nineteenth century barber chairs and equestrian hoof files and beaded Iroquois purses don't seem so insignificant when you're living in the middle of a province...





Something else I wanted to show you:







Orangeville has recently established a pleasant tradition of creating tree trunk art. If the family are willing to pay about $3,000, rather than completely remove old trees in the front yard, the municipal authorities leave a few feet of stump to be carved into a design.







Although...some of the humanoid faces really creeped me out at night.







I CAN'T STOP POSTING THESE!







I like this eagle. OK, One More!





/>I kept forgetting my camera when I drove past these, so here they are courtesy of loneprimate.

I know! Someone would actually take pics of Orangeville???



I must admit, I have spent years laughing at the expense of this small town. I remember when there were only 15,000 people living there, but it's huge now, a commuter town booming and expanding at a blinding rate and becoming one of the main towns in the county. At the outskirts are all the big new subdivisions for people who work in Toronto and make little sentimental connections to the town, but in the old part where my relatives live, it remains very much a small town. I couldn't go anywhere with my cousins without them bumping into someone they know.



Despite the fact that I have been visiting Orangeville since 1979 and yet feeling out of place as a Londoner in small town Ontario, I really really grew to appreciate the place after visiting the museum.

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I'm Baaaaack

Guess who's back in town? Yes, moi.





We flew out of Toronto, leaving behind the long-awaited snow dump and very wintry temps. It was -12C (10F) with a wind chill of -20C (-4F), and fortunately dazzlingly sunny. If it was still snowing on Tuesday more flights would have been delayed. As it is, nature produced a most amazingly crisp sunset over Toronto as I waited at the gate. It went from shades of gold near the horizon to shades of blue towards the depths of space.



[Tooners, as I looked, I thought about what you said about North American sunsets and could only agree.]

**********

The flight was only 5 hours long! That is not long enough to cause bad jet lag, while the 8-9 hour flight from Houston really wipes me out. Good thing, too, because although the flight was not full, the people sitting near me were annoying. There was only one seat between me and the guy who sneezed 100 times after take-off. The guy behind me coughed an equal amount at landing.



And there was nothing I wanted to watch. This plane didn't have a CD or
movie library in addition to the radio and TV channels as did the flight out of the UK. So I played
21, Trivia, and a crossword; watched Frasier, Hidden London, and listened to the
radio. For the first time ever, the movies on offer did not tempt me. In another first, I did not like the BA food and did not finish it, but did my best so as not to go hungry.



[Jia Li, we flew right over St Johns, Nfld!]

**********

Do you ever think about how amazing landing is? "Here" we are, in a pressurised metal tube flying at 30,000 ft in nearly -70C temperatures and we need to go down "there". Descent is as thrilling as take-off because I really like the process. Coming down from cruising speed the engines become a bit quieter. Raising the flaps to cause drag, reduction in speed, that grinding sound as the metal fights the air, and thus we eventually approach the earth in a controlled fall with a little roller coaster effect and a bit of cross wind turbulence. (I sat directly over the wings so could hear not just the landing gear but the hydraulics too.) Then we touch down and brake so hard with the flaps and spoilers up that sleepers can fall forward in their seats. Thrusters in reverse and we roarrrr to a slowdown. I have been flying since 1979 and cannot count how many times I have enjoyed this most dangerous manoeuvre!



Ever since I can remember, I have thought planes were beautiful.

**********

We landed in London at around 6am to grey skies and rain...surprise, surprise...even though it doesn't even rain that much here, it continues the stereotype. Having a bigger suitcase than when I went over, I decided to forego the Heathrow Express and the Tube at rush hour, and got a taxi home instead. It felt good to be back. (Shhh, none of that "I told you so." I still think about going back to the US every day, yes, every day, for over a year now. And now I even imagine going to Canada, snow or not - those of you who know me enough have heard me complaining bitterly about the winters!)



My room here is spacious with high ceilings, but I still had that sense I always do when returning from North America...of everything here being on a smaller, more compact scale. In fact, all day I couldn't judge the distances between anything in my small cupboards, or the stairs.



I sorted my mail - got 21 cards!!! Popped out to the local shops for milk and bread, etc. and by midday couldn't focus anymore, as I only caught half an hour of sleep on the plane despite my inflight boredom. I figured a one hour nap would be fine, but ended up taking 3 hours and then fell asleep again for an hour after dinner!



I talked to my mother, whose heart is aching. My aunt ran off to the gym before I left for the airport because she didn't want to see my Mum's face. J-J (upcoming blog) the dog missed me terribly. He'd got so used to the three of us sitting on the sofa together watching TV after dinner.

Yes, I fell in love on holiday, and the sentiment was returned. Mum says that after dinner the first night J-J looked for me - no Livia to rub his belly, or tell him how pretty he is; no Livia to make him sit and give him treats. He was so sad, he didn't even bark at people through the window. He looked for me the next morning too, and whenever anyone mentioned "Livia" he wagged his tail, bless his little cotton socks...

**********

Don't worry, I haven't forgotten the blogs I promised :)

To Do List

I have blogged 3 times in one month. My lowest rate ever. I haven't forgotten that I will tell you about:



1) Dufferin museum

2) my cousin's baby shower

3) the adorable Jay-Jay





Back in London on Wednesday ...



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near the end

I have only a week left in Canada. Being back in North America was much easier than I had expected it would be, even in this small town...but I know that when I return to the UK, London will put her claws into me again and I will stay...



*****



One day last week it got all the way up to 10C (50F) in southern Ontario. I see it will be in the mid 50s C in London this week. Well, here winter has returned and it has been snowing for a day and a night now. It is actually blowing snow out there, so I opted to stay home and blog rather than go out with my mother for her hair appointment and to "walk about" with her. "Walk about" is her escape from going stir crazy in her room after she does the housework, and consists of messing about in the shops before going to the gym.



*****



My dad flew in from Calgary to see mum and me for the first time in a year and a half. He was nicer and more civil - warmer, even - than he ever had been since the divorce and we spent a rather happy weekend together, though it was a bit like rubbing our noses in it when he would keep coming up with talk of his "destiny" and his "simplified" life.



We went to the mall, which took all of 15 minutes because it is a small one, then a further 15 minutes in the bookshop where Dad bought 3 things for $66 CDN. Bloody heck, I just looked at the back of my book and see that it is $29.95. *speechless*

Stuff costs a lot of numbers in this country.



It is called Theatre of the Mind: raising the curtain on consciousness by Jay Ingram, a Canadian national bestseller. Dad got that for me, and for himself he got Hyperspace the latest book by Michio Kaku, the fascinating Japanese-American theoretical physicist from California - he is the co-creator of String Theory. (Did anyone see Stephen Greene's documentary about that and the Theory of Everything last year? I blogged about it.) Some of Kaku's documentaries about Time and Parallel Worlds have been on the BBC lately and as soon as I saw his book I raved about him so, as Dad likes that kind of thing too, he got the book. Dad is heavily into sudoku, so he bought a mini set of those...a very expensive shopping trip if you ask me.



We went to Tim Horton's for coffee. You know how Starbucks is popular all over the world, but people still choose to go elsewhere? Well, apologies to any Canadians reading this, but I think Tim's is a mind-control conspiracy. They flock there like it is the only destination on the planet. Must be something the government puts in the double shot coffee or the trans-fat-free donuts.



After that we wanted to see Casino Royale so we could pass judgement on Daniel Craig's Bond and enjoy a bit of 007 action in an Aston Martin. But the only showing was at 9.40PM, and the only thing we could see was Happy Feet. I enjoyed it so much more than I had expected I would. If you don't care about penguins now, you will after that. I just wanted to hug Mumble, and the banter of his amigos was priceless.



For dinner we headed straight to One99 again, where the staff remember my mother and me from the New Year's bash. Dad enjoyed the food. We had starters (premiers) and mains (secondaries), but no room for dessert.







Dad's organic venison tenderloins on a bed of mashed potato, with a giant prawn and a lobster tail and claws, and winter veggies.

His starter was Woolwich goat cheese wrapped in phyllo, with curried squash chutney, sumac syrup and plantain chips.









Mum's seafood platter with scallops, coconut poached giant prawns, a sweet potato stack, and seafood paella.

Her starter was cedar-smoked and maple-cured salmon on confit potatoes, french beans, creme fraiche and candied garlic.









I had the special: Sea bass on a bed of cilantro polenta, white asparagus and green beans.

My starter had been BBQ breast of quail with grilled fennel, pomegranate, scallops, and mango sauce. Mmmmm BBQ quail is the tops!!!



Oh yea, and we had started with an Amuse of 3 goat's cheese and trout balls rolled in black and white sesame seeds...



Seriously, One99 comes up with the most interesting combinations of flavours. I found out they have a weekly streaming video of cooking tips on their website. I've just been there and discovered their specialty coffees and hot chocolates with amaretto and frangelico and Bailey's, etc.



I drank a Cosmopolitan cocktail in a fancy glass, though there was no burnt orange peel in it this time:







**********



I don't want to confuse you all with too many subjects, but I don't have many opportunities for blogging and have to just stick it all down here when I can.



I can't blog about the BBQ that my aunt Eve and uncle Tom did for dinner before taking my dad to the airport because I am waiting for Dad to email the pics from his camera.



Here are a couple of pics outside of town when my cousin Pierre took me to the Dufferin County Museum Archives, which was bigger and more interesting than I had expected. There were three buildings on the ground floor - a railway signal house (you hoist the flag if you want it to stop and pick you up), an Orangemen's meeting house (a society founded on the name of William of Orange, same as the ones in Ireland), and a settler's 3-bedroom log cabin. He knows the curator (who wasn't there) and the manager, Darrel, who was really nice and gave us the grand tour and more, with sneak peeks into the vaults and the offices!

There are endless artefacts related to local history, and donations still coming in from people's attics. From biscuit tins to old fire engines. I learned so many things, like ... well, would you like me to write another post about this in the next few days?



If so, I will save the pics for that, and meantime here are two sunset photos from last week when we were walking around with our coats in our hands:







The view from the front yard.









The firs in the back yard.

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One99 Broadway

Suffice to say I had an enjoyable Christmas week with family and eating yummy food. I hope yours was also agreeable.



And...Happy 2007! Where 2006 got to is beyond me... *looks under the bed*



**********





For New Year's Eve, Aunt Rita and her friend Leslie, Aunt Eve and Uncle Tom, and Mum and I all went to One99 Broadway for a 7-Course dinner. None of my cousins would come because at $100 per head you don't want a picky eater...

We had expected my Dad to be here but he's coming at the end of the week instead, so Leslie jumped at the chance to join us. Apparently, One99 is the type of restaurant that many of the town's residents aspire to visit one day and others avoid at all costs (Orangeville, despite its suburbanite boom, retains its modest farming town roots.) The interesting name basically comes from the address, as Broadway is this town's Main Street.



Uncle Tom had driven us there as he did two years ago, but this time he stayed and it was clear this is not his milieu. He divvied up his courses between us ladies and when we got to the meat course, we donated 3 rare steaks to him and shared the rest, as by this time most of us were full. Mum was in charge of wines so she started us off with a zinfandel and then by the meat course and to finish off, we had a shiraz.



We were seated at the best table, a big round one that took up the wine room, surrounded by glass and overlooking the main restaurant below. And, we were mostly served by the owner. Swapping between upstairs and downstairs were a guitarist and an accordionist, playing softly pleasant tunes and singing some classic old songs and Italian ones too. Most of us knew them all and by the time the guitarist got to "Edelweiss" our table started humming, so he came over and we sang it together.



The courses were as follows:



1) Amuse: butternut squash mousse on a savoury shortbread topped with saffron - just a tiny morsel to amuse the mouth



2) Soup: morel mushroom puree garnished with truffles and foie gras - I found tiny pieces of diced apple in the puree, an interesting touch. And the most succulent slices of foccacia bread in a basket, with butter and a dash of pink salt.



3) Fish 1: wish I had taken a pic of this as it was the most artfully composed plate of them all. Sugar-cured and smoked salmon on confit potatoes, french beans, yuzu, creme fraiche, and caviar. The base layer was a slice of sugar-cured salmon which has the most interesting and indescribable flavour. I could taste the freshwater-ness of it; it was slightly chewy, and the end note is a hint of sweetness. On top of the salmon perpendicular was the small half potato of very creamy texture. Laid beside this were a few crispy green beans in a tangy creamy dressing, and propped against these was the slice of home-smoked salmon. I don't know where the yuzu was, possibly they used the powder for an unusual flavour in the bean dressing. And on either side of the whole ensemble, a little dollop of red and black caviar.



4) Fish 2: Champagne poached lobster tail on brioche toast with a blood orange hollandaise sauce and chervil jus. I may never want hollandaise sauce without orange in it again. And then I was full and the waitress caught me stifling a yawn and waggled her finger at me with an eyebrow raised.



5) Palate cleanser: fresh grape juice - pressed and unrefined, it tasted just like we were eating those sweet blush red grapes.



Then they brought a slab of slate on top of which was a smaller section, red hot, with a sizzling head of garlic on it just out of the oven and a few sprigs of rosemary. This was just for the aroma, but I sooooo wanted to eat it with bread and olive oil and balsamic vinegar! Presumably to open our appetites for the next course:







6) Meat: Roasted organic beef tenderloin with potato and leek pie, baby rainbow carrots with sarawak pepper jus. Leslie (being Irish) kept asking where the pie was. It was the stacked "leaves" made up of potato and leek, like a tower of cards...



7) Dessert: Tiramisu - here I protest. It was all mascarpone and sponge, the lady fingers at the bottom were dry, there was no coffee or liqueur on them or anywhere else...all wrong.







Finished off with optional coffee.



For the toast we had Freixenet champagne, gold and silver noisemakers and hats or tiaras.







Most amazingly, when the owner brought us our bill, he said that two of the tabs had been taken care of earlier in the day - someone had paid for "the two babysitters". Aunty Eve runs a daycare. They were shocked because one of the parents had quit his job to become a student and as a result she reduced their fee.







Although Uncle Tom was the designated driver, he had been uncharacteristic and drank 3 tumblers of rum and coke. He put Aunty Eve, on 2-ish glasses of wine and two champagnes, in the driver's seat. Of the three sisters she holds the least alcohol and we had ribbed her a few times during dinner about what silly things she said to Uncle Tom on the drive home last time while calling him "shweedie"! Mum and I are affected the least, but there was no discussion of a subsitute driver and Uncle Tom took us home via the residential streets, all the while reminding her that she was about 10 feet from the curb. Mum and Aunty Rita alternated between laughter and exclamations.







Thankfully, during the day the ice had melted, the rainshowers had come and washed away the heavy fog, and the streets were drying by the time we left the restaurant. Uncle Tom said Dallas, Texas was colder than Toronto, Ontario that night.



When I woke up on the first morning of 2007 and stuck my head out into the backyard, I called Mum over and we enjoyed the watery sort of smell that reminded us of a cold winter morning in Houston.



More photos, regularly updated, are available on my Flickr pages.

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Where do I start?

I don't know where to begin. I have had such a time of it. I am just coming out of a fever and feeling up to blogging, from bed of course.



Office Part-ay



Friday 16th was my last day at work. On the Thursday I went to the office party...and sang karaoke, something I swore I would never do, but guess what? I would do it again. I sang a duet with a colleague who sings in the choir at Lambeth cathedral - it was The Music of the Night from The Phantom of the Opera. The Boss and several others had asked us over and over, so we just did it.



Christmas Dinner



On Saturday, I went off to Reading again for a rather fancy Christmas dinner with Diva, Nags, Amy, Pandy, and a couple of Diva's friends at a swish waterside restaurant.

As always, when we get together, Diva puts together a fantastic slide show, and I think this is her best yet, so click here to see it.



Sunday, I unwisely did not rush, and after a breakfast with Diva, Nags and Amy - Pandy left after the first course - that lasted all day and consisted of muffins, bacon, lashings of tea, then cake and doughnuts, tea, more cake and tea...they finally dropped Amy and me off at the station and I got home around 7pm.



Goodbye London



And so I stayed up all Sunday night packing, went to bed at 6.30am, and did the same on Monday night. Not only did I have to pack, but I had to make my room presentable enough for landlady's son to stay for the two days of Christmas. The rest of the family would be in the other two rooms. All of us tenants are conveniently out of the country.



I lay down for a nap at 4.30 on Tuesday morning. I set my alarm for 6.00 so I could get to Heathrow in a 9-9.30 window for my 11.50 flight. Next thing I knew, the phone was ringing and sunlight was pouring into my room and it was 9.37am. Funny enough, it was a wrong number but I may not have woken up otherwise. I have never run out of the house so fast - 10 minutes with much usage of the sh** word. And I lost my black cashmere scarf somewhere between the house and the station.



Made it to Heathrow with 15 minutes until the gate closed, but they would not let me continue, even though I had checked in online the night before. I got sent straight to the re-ticketing queue, which I stood in outdoors for an hour and a half where I noticed there was some pretty heavy fog, bear in mind I had not eaten - and I grabbed a chocolate truffle from the box of Leonidas my landlady had given me, conveniently in the front pocket of my carry-on case. Then there were only 6 cancellations, but after I arrived in Canada, there were fog cancellations for the rest of the week - I got out on the right day!



I got the last seat on the 3.40 flight to Toronto. Queued again for check-in, and then was at my leisure to find food. I had a delicious cheese omelette and fries with a pot of tea at Garfunkel's. The gate wasn't assigned until 3.30, we were boarding past 4.30pm and didn't take off till past 5!



The flight was uneventful though my seatmate was noisy and vulgar. Fortunately he only got up once and I am glad I had the aisle seat. The seatback entertainment on BA is now touchscreen! You have a whole library of old and new movies to choose from; also a CD library, as well as radio and TV. Awesome, eh?



Un-Welcome To Toronto!



Far from the usual cheery Canadian welcome...



As if the trial of getting a flight were not enough, as soon as I land in Toronto someone has it in for me. I am un-greeted at customs by a sullen young girl who asks where I live, if I have a return ticket, what my job is, whether I brought alcohol or tobacco, and where I am visiting while she writes all over my landing card. My back is up but you know it is key to remain polite at the airport or else. Forget the "or else" - thinking I am heading for the baggage claims, I am instead ushered into Immigration. I stop and asked the attendant why? She says I have a big pink stripe on my landing card. I tell her I am not immigrating, but she says I have to talk to the officer. So another queue.



8pm and I reach an immigration desk. I get a Germanic sounding man who asks how I am. I say I am confused. He says he will clear that up soon. Why am I here? On holiday to see relatives. I don't want to live in Canada. He says with all his words clipped, "That is for me to decide, not you. Your opinion means nothing to me." (At this point my spirit flags.) Can you write the name and age of a relative on this piece of paper? What town do they live in? What job do you do? How much money do you have? Do you have a return ticket? Can I see it? Do you have a credit card? Can I see it? OK.



At baggage claims, I hear not all the baggage made it on board that flight. In a minor panic I look around and with relief spot my mother's old duffel bag with the pink and purple ribbons on it, and sling it over my carry-on.



I get to the part where you hand your landing card to the officer at the podium and they send you left to the greeting hall. But no, I get sent to the right and a second customs queue, where there are scanners and tables and interview rooms and big burly guards. My heart is trying to hammer its way out of my ribcage. Oh my god they are going to strip search me. I reach an officer at a table and again I am asked why I am here. Again I have no alcohol or tobacco. No gifts? No, only myself - thinking in my head that the cost of the ticket was enough. He takes my passport and landing card, tells me to wait, and disappears into a room for about 10 minutes.



Two muscly guards come in and mill about. They point in my direction and one comes towards me. I hold my breath but he walks past me to some people sitting on a bench at the back of the room.



Really and truly feeling faint now, I sit on the table and rest my head on my suitcase. The officer comes back and tells me to put my bag on the X-ray belt. I do so and stand at the other end. He stops my carry-on and beckons seriously, so I go and look at the screen. He points to the upper left corner where I have stowed my clear zip-loc bag and says, 'Is that an ampoule of perfume?' I say yes that is my clear toiletry bag. He says OK, I can go.



***



I finally make it to the hall nearly 2 hours after landing. My cousin Pierre is there and I just want to cry on his shoulder, but I get a hug and we are on our way home. In the car he says, "Welcome to Canada". I say, "Thanks. At least someone wants me to be here."



My mother had cooked a special dinner of duck curry and dhal and rice, but by this time it is too late for such food and she makes me some hot cocoa and slices up a chocolate muffin for me.



**********



Wednesday 20th - shop-o-rama



It averages 4 degrees C in the day and there is no snow.



Mum and I go shopping. I buy a few smart things with the Xmas money Dad has sent for us: a saddle leather Enzo Angiolini bag and a black velvet Ralph Lauren bag, as well as a pretty paisley and black fur scarf, and a mint green silk lined thingy to fling over my shoulder when I go out in the summer.



I buy oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and my old fave Speculaas (spiced almond Christmas biscuits from the Netherlands or Belgium) to enjoy with my tea.



After dinner we go to the gym and I try spinning for the first time. It is like stationery mountain biking. The saddle bloody HURTS to sit on but it is easy for me to stand and pedal because I power walk up so many stairs at the Tube stations.



My aunt Eve takes the class too, and she says she was admiring my bum in the mirror. My aunts love my bum. She pinches it in the locker room.



After class, we go back to her house where I see my cousin Alyssa and her growing bump - she is 6 months along. And my cousin Paul, who they all say looks like my brother.



Aunty Rita's dog JJ falls in love with me when we are all watching TV in the evening. He gives me upside down puppy eyes and "bellies" to rub. Pictures to follow eventually.



Thursday 21st - girl lunch and massage



I am beginning to cough.

Mum and I ('we') swing by Aunt Eve and I say hello to Uncle Tom who tells me I am pretty. He has known me since I was two and despite having three of their own kids, I am still special to them. Alyssa has never been to One99 Broadway, Orangeville's smart restaurant where we have reservations for New Year's Eve - so we take her to lunch there, but we didn't make reservations so we have half an hour to kill before going back. We decide to go to the (smoke-free) Winchester Arms pub for a coffee. I wish I had my camera as the town's main street (Broadway) is typically Main Street USA even though it is actually in Canada...



We start with a basket of little slices of very moist tasty bread with butter. Lyss and I order mangotinis, just mango juice with sparkling water, and Mum orders an iced vanilla chai tea.

For mains, I get capellini pasta with steamed sweet plum tomatoes, a few surprises of citrus peel, and perfectly grilled scallops.

Mum gets pate de foie gras seasoned with sage and cranberries, with crostini.

Unadventurous Alyssa orders beef and potatoes, but she doesn't like mushrooms so I get those. There are very few things she does eat, and this is why she is not coming to the $90 per head new years' dinner there...!



If the snow holds off, I think I may be able to do some driving before Christmas.



Aunty Eve wants me to shed my hard work while I am here and so she has booked me in tonight for a proper massage at the chiropractors. Not only have I worked hard, but I daresay I deserve it after my trials at the airport, and then the spinning. Every time I move, I ooh and aah.



Tomorrow I have a pedicure, but while I am at the massage I start having chills which get worse when we go home. I run a low temperature overnight.



Friday 22nd - pedicure



We find out that Dad is coming on the 6th January for the weekend!



I am woozy, but take some Advil and am still able to pretend I feel well, as the beautician is a hypochondriac. I suck on cough drops and go for my pedicure. It lasts an hour and a half, and now I have pretty, soft, massaged feet.



By lunchtime I am not well. I have to take medication and have a fever.



Saturday 23rd - burning up



Entire day lost to high fever, chills, sweating buckets, and sleeping. I have been healthy for a year but in my stress and run-down state must have picked up the first thing going on the plane. I think I am strong enough to lie on the couch and watch TV with my feet buried under JJ's tummy, but even that I give up and slink off to bed. All day in jammies, curled up and sleeping like it is going out of fashion.



Mum is an angel: between cooking, baking and running tea and snacks and meds to me in the room.

The fever breaks after dinner and Mum runs me a bath, but I still sweat again overnight.

I dream that I am befriended by a barn owl and that I have to wash it. I wonder if that means anything.



Sunday 24th - today - Christmas Eve



Tired and very floppy. I try to help out a bit in the kitchen but am too dizzy. So I am sitting up in bed blogging. I have worn myself out finding the ethernet cable and connecting my laptop to the internet. It's good to be back, though.



Wishing you all a Merry Christmas

I hope you enjoy your time with your family and friends

Be warm, eat well, and laugh lots

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PA Wanted

Could someone be so good as to come round while I am at work and:

1) Buy stamps,
2) put away last month's laundry,
3) wrap presents,
4) make parcels and take them to the Post Office,
5) wash my sheets,
6) vacuum the floor,
7) do more laundry,
8) put that stuff in those boxes,
9) shred those receipts,
10) and take out the recycling?

Oh, and pack my suitcases for a) this weekend and b) Canada?

No?

I'll give you a chocolate!
*ooh, incentive*

*********

Went to our team lunch at the restaurant in the Tate Modern. Awesome views across London. Mediocre food, but a really good chocolate truffle torte on a crumbled amaretto biscuit base. And a good enthusiastic chat with my 3 colleagues. It was also a very invigorating walk across the Millennium Bridge in the mild and whipping wind.

It put the colour in my cheeks :)

Cantare

This is a clip from the BBC 4 documentary that inspired me to write my old post on Handel and the Castrati, during that exhibition at the Handel House museum. By the time I wrote my article the only Maniaci clip on YouTube had been removed due to copyright issues, so let's hope this one stays! It was sent to me by my friend who is also a male soprano and sounds very similar.

Enjoy!




If that doesn't work, click here.

**********

I have the day off today. Am ostensibly wrapping gifts and making parcels for the post, but assigning Christmas cards is taking way too much time. Eee!

Also, meeting Lydia for dinner. I have known her and her family for over 25 years. Who is your oldest friend?

Ciao!

tattles

Note for all to whom I am sending a parcel: Please forgive me if it arrives after Christmas!

**********

I was "let out" of work early yesterday and I attempted to finish my Christmas shopping, but 6 hours later at 10pm I was still not finished. I DID, however, finally buy cards! And wrapping paper!

I thought I would be able to go out today - yes Saturday shopping is hell even when it's not December - so I am glad that I had a slow day.

Worst yet, I woke up at 2pm. By the time I ate breakfast, it was past 3.30. I have NEVER done this before, not even when I was recovering from the flu...! I bemoaned the fact to my mother on the phone later, and she told me, "It's ok, at least you rested. You don't have to report to anybody. You don't have to cook for anyone."

I also blubbered on about how I am nearly 30 and haven't done anything I should have by now, and how I feel I am in such a pickle, and so frustrated. She told me that when I go to the massage she has booked for me, I must learn to breathe out the negativity, etc.

I love my Mum to bits. She says the most wonderful things.

**********

Now, you know I never talk about politics, but every now and then I feel strongly enough about something to mention it here.

Tony Blair said yesterday that if you don't like Britain, don't come here. About time. He said that the famed British tolerance can only go so far. Seriously, I have been saying this for years about the UK, the US and Canada. There is nothing wrong with keeping your cultural values alive, but if you agree to live in a new culture, try to assimilate a bit, please. Otherwise your life is hardly different to, and the quality hardly better than the one you left behind, and then what's the point?

I must say, though, that more so than in the UK, emigrants to the USA know what they are going for. They want to be there. They clutch their breasts and feel entitled to call themselves Americans, and are proud to do so. That is what America is all about, but the people who move there want to assimilate. They move to another country for a different and better life, and that is what they strive for. The American Dream is a reality; she is willing to help you on your way, and for some reason those who move there aren't interested in a free ride. They want success and they often get it. On the other hand, there is too much social exclusion in the UK, which is such a soft touch, and let's not even talk about France where there was rioting in the streets last year!

**********

Wednesday I went to the interview at the agency but Friday found out I didn't get the job because I don't have a UK driver's licence (despite being willing to learn). But everything else was fine. I don't know what else to say other than I wonder if that was the real reason?

Afterwards, I went next door to Partridge's, somewhere I have meant to visit for ages. I liked it that the local customers know the employees by name. I got chatting with the very chatty lady who was serving samples of Calvados. Being that she was Austrian-Turkish and admitted she couldn't handle the French, I taught her how to pronounce it. I bought a few things there, and not wanting another plastic bag, I asked for the jute bag with wooden handles. It is actually a wine bag, but a perfect size for me. The bottle sections can be pushed to the side. The larger groceries bag would be dragging along the floor. And guess what? It's free. A jute bag like this for free, when even at the other shops you have to pay 10p for a strong plastic bag-for-life and at least £1 for a fabric bag at M&S.



Then I headed up to Finchley Road for dinner with the indomitable Mr B - finally free of all signs of chemo, but jumping back into life! Good stuff.

We went to the Fine Burger Co., and since I haven't eaten a real burger in many years and rarely manage beef, I went for the Fez, which was a yummy lamb burger. Nicely seasoned, with a yoghurt sauce, lettuce and topped with a yummy yummy harissa sauce - I can only liken it to Moroccan salsa.
And then we went for coffee/hot choc at Pizza Express. Not much of a cafe scene up there.

**********

I have just submitted a review on the London Eats site for the Quality Fish Bar on King Street in Richmond. If you are within reach, please do go! You won't be sorry.
I am going there with my grandmother tomorrow. Wait, no I'm not - I've just called and they are closed on Sundays. Poo. I was craving a nice plate of chish n fips from there...

So on to Plan B, which is the yummy Christmas rack of lamb from M&S - covered in rosemary, pine nuts and dried cranberries. Mmmmmmmmmmmm.



(Just a gratuitous hand shot.)

Monday outing

I went to a Conservative party Christmas party Monday night with landlord and landlady. They are on the committee for the constituency North of Regents Park and are always hosting/planning/doing things. This event was held at one of the giant houses in St John's Wood.



Landlady and I took a taxi to go there, and she was talking, so when
she got back out to run into the house and pick up some things, the
taxi driver asked me if she was an MP. I said no. He said, "Labour or
Conservative?" He was glad to hear she was not Labour, and then went
on the usual taxi driver politics rant.




I had been invited weeks ago, did nothing about it, and then when one of the committee members dropped out with a cold, Landlady asked if I wanted to go along for free and help out. I gladly accepted, as it has been years since I took part in any sort of event organising.



(You may skip the trip down Memory Lane if you wish:)



At university I was very active on Program Council which planned campus-wide events and entertainment. I chaired the Coffee Cart, which offered free coffee and chocolate every Wednesday for the night students from about 7-9pm outside the class rooms. I enjoyed that, smiling, chatting, flirting, serving beverages to appreciative chilly people.



I was also the President of our chapter of Psi Chi, the national psychology honour society. We raffled a digital camera, back when not that many people owned one. We made care packages for parents to order for their kids in the dormitories to boost them up during finals. We made crafts for the children in the MD Anderson Cancer centre, etc. At the end, we held a banquet at the Marriott and installed the new officers. One of my readers here was the Secretary, weren't you Memoria???



Those were GOOD days. I am not really that outgoing anymore as sad things have happened to change me somewhat, but I try to rekindle the spark from time to time, and yesterday was another attempt.



I greeted people at the door with the name list, and as is natural with me, I couldn't stop there as I pitched in with tidying up and putting away. They were so pleased I was there.



The house was not cavernous, just spacious. The ground floor was taken up by a foyer nearly as big as my bedroom (which is large for London standards as it is the width of the house), a cloakroom the size of most English box rooms, and then a similar sized toilet, and on the other side of the hallway there was a large, L-shaped reception room.



I thought that mulled wine and cream carpets was a brave combination, but the wine stayed in the glasses and the carpets stayed cream.



Downstairs was the kitchen (surprisingly not big enough for such a house), dining room/conservatory, living room, a small spare room (looks like it should be a nanny's room) and ensuite bathroom which was actually bigger than the bedroom.



The guest speaker had cancelled due to a throat infection, so the local candidate standing for MP gave a speech. She is tall, graceful, and blonde.



I met quite a few nice people, but the two who stand out are Councillor Daniel Astaire and Rula. Daniel gave me the number of the man in charge of the electoral roll because my registration form was returned to me last year. (What would I tell him? "Take it now, please"?) He told me he represents Sothebys. After a while I realised I had seen him on TV, probably talking about parking or the congestion charge.

And Rula gave me her business card so I can get in touch and meet up sometime. She is Kuwaiti but grew up in California so she got excited when she found out I had lived in Texas.



You wouldn't believe how many people thought I was related to our hostess, Mrs Glick. I am sure I have seen her somewhere before.



Only, I felt so short amidst all those tall people. It was the first time I helped out at an event for adults. Usually it was for my own peers. Actually, perhaps the reason I remember Daniel and Rula is because I spoke to them with comfort as they were not tall. While talking to one lady, I found myself going up and down on tiptoes to emphasise my points.





At the end, when we were clearing up, my landlady said, "Oh you are being a good girl tonight." (As opposed to...?)



***



Everyone think good thoughts for me on Wednesday afternoon. I have an interview with an agency that wants to meet me about a job on behalf of a large and important art collection.

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1898

Excerpt from the 1898 essay Woman's Future Position in the World by Lizzie M. Holmes:

Woman has been considered too much as woman, and not enough
as a human being. The constant reference to her sex has been neither
ennobling, complimentary, nor agreeable. Either as slave, toy, pet, or
queen, this ceaseless thinking of her sex instead of herself has been
degrading. To finally arrive at her best she simply needs consideration
as a fellow member of society.

[...]

She has lost some of the charm of clinging womanhood which at
best man only heeded in his leisure moments, and has not yet gained the
poise and individuality that will draw him to her as a companion. She
is dissatisfied with the old gallantry, and has not yet attained the
spontaneous recognition and respectful love she longs for. But this
will come. There will be a time when men and women, equal human beings,
clasping hands and looking each other in the eyes on a level -- not
leaning on each other, but upright -- will feel a true fellowship; and
mutual admiration and respect will exist between them. Then will love
be sweeter, purer, more beautiful than the world has ever known.

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